


Till Kingdom Come

by vaudevillian_villainess



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, but it's only polite to say i am, childhood cancer, not really - Freeform, this is just...painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1795180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudevillian_villainess/pseuds/vaudevillian_villainess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has leukemia, diagnosed at the age of five.  When he's sixteen, he falls in love with his nurse, Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

> This makes me sad...   
> Title taken from Coldplay's "Till Kingdom Come."
> 
> **I AM MOLODOO/YOU-ARE-THE-SENTINELS! I JUST DELETED MY OLD ACCOUNT!**
> 
> [[my tumblr]](http://vaudevillian-villainess.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Beta-ed by the awesome [marywimsical](http://marywimsical.tumblr.com/)!

Whenever he entered a room, he lit it up. His smile was gorgeous and despite his condition, he was always cheerful. All the other kids in the ward loved him, flocked to him. They would all make him tell them stories and he would always hold one of them on his lap as he spoke. His voice hypnotized the other children and when he was done, they would all be laughing as their nurses took them back to their rooms. And then he would be lead back to his room by his nurse. Once he was settled back in bed, he faced his nurse. 

“So what’s new, murse Derek?” He asked, a grin on his face. Derek’s face darkened.

“I told you not to call me that, Stiles,” he huffed. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be such a sourwolf!” Stiles exclaimed. He settled into his bed before he turned on the television. Derek rolled his eyes and walked out of Stiles’ room.

*.*.*

Stiles had been diagnosed with leukemia at the age of five. It had first been discovered when Stiles had come home from kindergarten one day with far too many bruises and some joint pain. His parents had been concerned, especially when the bruises hadn’t gone away and the joint pain got to the point where Stiles had to be bedridden. They’d called and made an appointment with their son’s pediatrician, who pointed them towards a specialist in pediatric leukemia. 

“It may be nothing, but why take a chance?” The doctor had said. She’d handed the card with the number to Stiles’ mother before leaving to attend to her next patient. Immediately, an appointment had been scheduled for the next week, same day and time. Stiles was excited because it meant that he’d get to miss another day of school. They had arrived at the Dr. Bishop’s office and were seen right on time. Dr. Bishop introduced himself and gave Stiles a brief examination. He pursed his lips as he listened to Stiles go on about his bruises and joint pain. Finally, he finished and pulled Stiles’ mother into the hallway for a moment. 

“I want to run some tests on him. I don’t want you to panic yet, because even if it is leukemia, there’s still things we can do to try and help cure him. I do, however, want you and your husband to be prepared for the likelihood that this is, indeed, leukemia.” Dr. Bishop said, doing his best to give comfort, but to no avail. Anya nodded her head.   
A few weeks later, the test results of the bone marrow aspirate and biopsy came in and Stiles Stilinski was diagnosed with leukemia.

*.*.*

Stiles spent time in the hospital for the rest of his kindergarten career. Because of his time in the hospital, he’d made no friends. On the bright side, his biological therapy seemed to be working so, the following September, Stiles had been able to start the first grade. He appeared to be getting better and even made a friend. Stiles and Scott were inseparable. Until Stiles relapsed when he was ten. He had to be hospitalized for a few months and the doctors didn’t think he would make it. But he did. Stiles Stilinski persevered and outlived his mother, who died when he was thirteen, also of cancer. Stiles’ cancer got progressively worse until he was permanently hospitalized. But he lived. He continued to live, even though he had lost all his hair due to chemo and his doctors had no idea how much longer he would live. He didn’t care, though. He was sixteen, now, and he’d managed to outlive their speculations before. However, he could feel something different this time. His cancer…he felt it getting worse. He was always more tired, his joints were in constant pain, he barely ate. He knew he was close. And then his new nurse arrived and things seemed to get a little better.

*.*.*

Derek Hale was a certified nurse’s assistant (CAN) and was working on becoming a resident nurse (RN). He was twenty three years old when he was hired by the local hospital in Beacon Hills, under the supervision of RN Melissa McCall. He was assigned, by her, to the pediatric ward of terminal illnesses, specifically to room one seventeen. When he walked in that first day, it was to an empty bed. He immediately panicked and searched the entire floor for his patient. He would’ve called out the first name, but he didn’t know how to pronounce it, so instead, he began yelling out his last name. 

“STILINSKI!” he called out, searching up and down the hallways before finally stumbling upon a room with a bunch of little kids surrounding a bigger kid. The bigger kid was sitting in the middle of a circle, a little kid perched precariously on his knee. He was talking wildly with his hands and all the other children were laughing. He noticed that the boy had a white cap on his head and was unusually thin for a boy his age, before it clicked in his mind. “Stilinski?” He asked, loud enough to be heard. The boy turned his head and Derek was met with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

“That’s me!” He said, his smile bright. Derek said nothing for a moment, before replying.

“You’re…I don’t know how to pronounce your first name, kid,” Derek said, rubbing the back of his neck. Stilinski’s smile grew.

“It’s Genim, but you can call me Stiles. Everyone does.” Stiles replied. Derek nodded his head.

“Right. Well, it’s time for your medicine.” Derek said gruffly. Stiles nodded his head and placed the little girl he’d been holding on the floor with the others. As he stood up, he smiled an even bigger smile and looked down at the adoring kids.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow, ok? I gotta go get better, and so do you!” He said. The kids laughed and Derek watched as Stiles shuffled towards him, dragging his IV with him. 

“BYE STILES!” The kids chorused. Stiles laughed and Derek found himself wanting to hear more of that sound.

“Bye kids!” He said, before giving Derek his full attention. “So, what’s your name new guy?” He asked. Derek squinted his eyes.

“How do you know I’m new?” He asked. Stiles laughed.

“Because I’ve been here long enough to know everyone and I know I’ve never seen you before. I’d remember someone so hot, anyway. Probably would’ve jerked off to thoughts of you, so…” Stiles trailed off, realizing what he’d just said and having the decency to at least blush. 

“My name’s Derek.” He said, trying to make Stiles more comfortable (and himself, too, who was he kidding?) Stiles’ head popped up.

“What?” he queried.

“My name. It’s Derek,” Derek repeated. “Derek Hale.” Stiles grinned.

“Gotcha murse Hale!” He said. Derek rounded on him.

“What?” He hissed in the friendliest manner he could muster. Stiles laughed.

“Murse Hale! You know, you’re a man and a nurse, so murse?” Stiles tried explaining. Derek gave him a blank, unimpressed look. Stiles gave him the same look back for a few moments before cracking a smile and pushing past Derek to head towards his room.

“Don’t be such a sourwolf!” He called out to him as he entered his room.

*.*.*

Their friendship progressed from there. And each day, Derek fell hopelessly more in love with Stiles, and unbeknownst to him, Stiles fell for him, too. Derek didn’t want to admit it. Who wants to admit that they fell not only for an underage kid, but a terminally ill underage kid? It kept him awake some nights. He always felt like such a creeper, having these kinds of feelings for Stiles. He just…and they…but then he…and…yeah. He couldn’t really explain, but it was everything about Stiles, from his happy, optimistic attitude to the little crinkling around his eyes every time he smiled. It was the days when he walked in on Stiles sleeping soundly when normally he would be going to the playroom to tell the younger patients a story or two. Or when he would walk in and see Stiles talking animatedly with (ok, to) his father. His father, the sheriff, who owned several guns and could easily get away with murder if he knew how his son’s twenty three year old nurse felt about him.

*.*.*

“You could just tell me you like me, y’know. I mean, I’m certainly not going to discourage you! I’m almost seventeen and I’ve never been kissed. I’m sexually frustrated and the only person who’s even remotely attractive around here is Mrs. McCall and no. Just…No. Because like, her son is my only friend and just…she’s like a mom, so I certainly can’t jack off to her. But like…you’re totally hot and it’s kind of obvious…at least to me…and I just…you could tell me and then w-“ Stiles was cut off mid-ramble by a pair of lips pressing softly against his own chapped ones. When Derek pulled back, Stiles looked like a deer caught in headlights, which made Derek smirked. When Stiles’ brain finally kicked back in, he licked his lips before pressing his fingers to them. “Wow,” he said, his voice breathless. Derek’s smirk grew.

*.*.*

They shared a few more kisses after that and for a few weeks, everything seemed great. Until one day, when Derek came in and Stiles looked paler and skinnier than he’d ever seen. He rushed quickly to his side. He grasped his hand in his, without even thinking, and Stiles seemed to greatly appreciated the gesture. He squeezed Derek’s hand gently. 

“Hey sourwolf,” he rasped. His voice was dry and it made Derek want to cringe. This wasn’t the boy he’d fallen in love…oh god. He’d fallen in love with him. He’d fallen in love with a terminally ill sixteen year old. “I’m seventeen, sourwolf.” Stiles said, a hint of humor in his voice and…

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Derek asked. Stiles smiled and Derek noticed that it wasn’t the same…it was dimmer.

“You did, Derek. And I love you, too.” Stiles answered. A moment passed before Stiles spoke again. “Y’know, you’re right.” Derek cocked his head.

“About what?” He inquired. Stiles smiled slyly.

“You’re an idiot.” Stiles spoke. Derek furrowed his brow in confusion.

“When did I say that?”

“When you admitted that you’d fallen in love with a terminally ill seventeen year old,” Stiles declared matter-of-factly. “That was pretty stupid of you.” Derek glared at him before going in to kiss him.

*.*.*

“I’m gonna die soon,” Stiles stated as he felt Derek enter the room. Derek froze.

“What?” Stiles turned to face him.

“I’m gonna die soon,” he repeated. Derek raced over to him.

“Wh-“ But Stiles cut him off.

“I don’t…I can’t explain it, but…just trust me. I can feel it. I know that I’m gonna die soon. I’ve felt it for a while, now, to be honest, but I’ve hung on and now I know why I did.” Derek eyed him curiously.

“Why’d you hang on?” He asked. He was afraid of the answer, but somehow knew what it would be. It didn’t make a difference, though. He still sucked in a rush of breath when Stiles said it.

“You.”

*.*.*

A week later, Derek stopped by Stiles’ room on his way out of the hospital. He had just punched out but wanted to say good bye to him. He popped in and saw that Stiles was sleeping. He smiled as he walked over to the bed. He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Stiles’ lips. After a few moments, he pulled away (just barely) and whispered “I love you,” against his lips, breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips. He saw Stiles’ mouth curl upwards a little and heard a mumble, which he took for an ‘I love you too.’ 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he remarked. He backed slowly out of the room, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Stiles’ chest. As he pulled out of the hospital car park, a team of nurses fled to room one seventeen. Stiles didn’t live to see the next morning.


End file.
